


if you're a bird (then i'm a bird)

by jongleur



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongleur/pseuds/jongleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which louis wants glitter, not a suit; harry wants louis, not to be hit. their town has everything they don’t want, but afterall, they’re all they need.</p><p>a lot of tears, a lot of kisses, and the most reckless and beautiful idea louis and harry can get: run away together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you're a bird (then i'm a bird)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for the delay, but yay for me bc i still posted this an hour before december!  
> also, this is so fluffy i don't know how i didn't rot while writing it.  
> also, i didn't want to put des/robin in a bad light bc they're sweet so i just made up a character there.
> 
> title and word in italics are from the song if you're a bird by the scene aesthetic and, seriously check it out because it's so larry. :) geez.

**_(They said if I think with my heart that I won't get very far, but that can't possibly be true.)_ **

 

The thing was, Louis Tomlinson was known for being dramatic.

So his mother thought nothing as he rolled his eyes and exhaled a forced sigh. He looked bored, with one hand on his cheek and the other drumming away on the kitchen table. She squabbled on and on about his responsabilities, on how he was practically an adult, on how he was selfish and immature and _think of the girls, Louis_. All  this and while cutting vegetables for dinner.

It’s not that he didn’t love his mom, he did, and it wasn’t even that he didn’t care what she said, but god, she said the exact same thing _every_ day.  And everytime he replied the same thing.

“I won’t be able to do it, mum, I can’t.”

“It’s not that Lou, it’s just that you don’t _want_ to.” Replied Johanna Tomlinson, voice harsher than what it usually was.

Louis ran a finger through his hair for the uptenth time in the past ten minutes.

“God, it’s like you don’t even listen to me.” Louis said as he stood up with more force than necessary.

“Louis,” Jay stopped the knife on her hand and turned around to face her eldest son, who was already walking away, “Get back here, Louis!”

Louis sighed once again, not looking back, “I’ll be in my room, tell the girls I’m sorry for not having dinner with them.”

The eighteen year old boy ran upstairs to his room, locked the door and threw himself towards the bed.

Yes, Louis Tomlinson was known for being dramatic, and so, it was only natural for him to also be an actor. He was such a good actor that he could fool even his own mother into thinking he was the epitome of indifference and nonchalance.

And he fooled her every day into thinking he didn’t care that she was deciding his future. But in all honesty, and behind the familiarity and safety his bedroom walls provided, he was scared and _confused_ and _angry_ and that’s when and where he let _his_ walls fall and the hot tears spill.

He had an uncle, an uncle with a law firm and no children to inherit it to. And Louis was supposed to go to university and study _law_ and work for him and evetually become boss and help his single mother and his four younger sisters and it was _horrible_.

Because Louis wasn’t born to be in a desk, to wear suits, or to be serious. He was born for the spotlight, for bright costumes, and loud voices, and stardom. It was everything he’d ever wanted and it was everything he'd never get.

His mother didn’t know how much it was hurting, she didn’t understand, she thought it was stupid and mindless and not worth it, not when Louis had an opportunity to become a lawyer and give to the family that he loved so much.

And Louis never let her see behind the mask, _he was a good actor_ , it was, after all, what he was born to do.

::

**_(I will never lie to you. I will never want to, my heart is yours and there's nothing to hide.)_ **

****

Harry Styles was every girl’s dream.

He was beautiful, with curly brown locks, huge green eyes, and a giant smile next to a perfectly placed dimple. He was also sweet, and intelligent, and kind.

He loved writing songs to people, and he loved cats, and dirty band tshirts and everyone, absolutely _everyone_ liked him.

“You filthy fag!”

Everyone that is, who wasn’t his step dad.

Harry cowered in a corner of the living room, a thick book that almost seconds ago had hit his head, was next to his feet. Roy, hair slick and in a gray suit, was fuming, a couple of meters away from Harry. His mom was by the doorframe, watching in horror but saying nothing at all.

“Get over it, mum already did! Does it really matter if you have a _gay son_?” Harry yelled, apparently still not in fear.

“I do not have a gay son, you’re not mine, you’re not my son Harry Styles.”

Harry’s eyes watered, and with one last look at his mother, he ran out of the house. He ran and ran towards the park he used to go all the time when he was little. When he was little and näive and didn’t know a thing, and his daddy loved him because back then, Harry had never found other little boys atrractive.

He hid under the toy house on the corner of the small park, no one would see him there, at least not under the blue of the night.

He hated everything his father was doing. He hated what he thought of Harry, which was less than dirt. He hated it ever since it started five months ago, when he had come out to his family. His sister, who was in uni, couldn’t care less; his mother, at first, had looked so proud of him. But his father, oh no, his father was ashamed. And it hadn’t been the same since then, Roy had found every little excuse since that day to get mad at Harry, at poor Harry who only wanted his parent’s acceptance.

He sniffed as he looked to the sky, looking at the stars and trying not to cry. His heart clenched sorrowfully as each and everyone of the words his father had said minutes before hit him like cold water on the face, again and again.

He wished he could not care, he wished that he could just convince himself that they were worth nothing. But he couldn’t. Because Roy was the closest thing to a father, and Harry was a sensible soul. He took everything to heart, even if he knew he shouldn’t. And he _knew_ he shouldn’t, he knew Roy’s word were product of the seed of ingorance, Harry knew that being who he was was ok, that he couldn’t change and he did not want to change; but it didn’t it make it hurt any less.

Minutes passed, and the cold air dried the traces of tears left on his face. The stars and the dark blue that surrounded him gave him cover, made him feel endless. The wind howled and lulled him to sleep, gave him the sweet dreams he deserved.

Because maybe his father didn’t like him, but the night did, and it embraced him whole.

::

**_(I guess you can say I love you, I truly do adore you.)_ **

 

“And I swear, Katie, he looked at me straight in the eye last week!” a blonde girl in a summer dress said to her friend, both with a melting popsicle in their hand and their eyesight in the disthance.

“He did? Oh, my god, Lucy! And did he come over to you or something?” Her friend replied, never taking their eyes off whoever they were watching.

“Oh, well, not _exactly_ , but he looked as if he was about to…”

“Perhaps he was busy.” Her friend reassured her with a pat on the back.

“Perhaps.” Louis whispered with a smile. He was sitting on the other side of the tree the two girls were sitting. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, in fact, he had been reading a Bukowski, and he never got distracted with a Bukowski, but he couldn’t help it that time around. Either way, the two girls hadn’t noticed, Louis thought maybe they hadn’t even noticed him either.

“Oh! Lucy I think he’s looking at you right now.” Lucy’s friend, Katie, assured her excitedly.

Lucy squealed, “He’s coming this way, he’s coming this way! How do I look?”

“You look gorgeous, Lu, he’ll be drooling for you in a matter of seconds.”

Someone should’ve given an award to Louis when he contained his giant snort.

“I can’t believe Harry Styles is coming over to talk to you!”

And that’s when Louis snorted. Good thing the two girls were too busy trying not to faint at the mere sight of Harry Styles’ _beauty_.

The girls’ squealing gradually stopped, and Louis heard the faint steps of someone walking on grass near the tree.

His smile widened as he really, really tried to concentrate on his book. He was failing.

The steps grew nearer and nearer, but more to the left where Louis was, rather than the right side where the two girls still sat.

A head full of curls suddenly dropped to Louis’ lap.

“H’llo, Lou.” Harry mumbled in a deep voice just as he dropped himself on the shorter boy.

“An intelectual says a simple thing in a hard way, an artist says a hard thing in a simple way.” Louis replied.

“I get all hot and bothered when you quote your books at me.” Harry joked.

“Charles Bukowski.” Louis said with a smile as he closed his book, ready to give all his attention to the newcomer. On the corner of his eye, he saw two deflated girls walking away from the shadow the tree provided.

“On, no. Bukoswki is actually such a turn off, too overrated.” Harry mocked, still with his head on Louis’ lap.

Louis leaned down, his face a few inches away from Harry’s. “You mean _too mainstream_ , you horrible and predictable hipster.”

Harry laughed loudly, open and unashamed, very much like himself, thought Louis. But then the curly haired boy closed the distance between them and Louis didn’t have much time to think because Harry’s lips were on him and they were cold and soft and on _Louis_. So Louis kissed back because it was Harry. Obviously.

“I am not a hipster.” Harry breathed out as they separated themselves.

“Oh, but you are, Harold.” Louis laughed, tangling his fingers on Harry’s hair.

“I just happen to think other poets deserve more recognition.” He smiled back rubbing Louis’ ankles, rubbing with more friction the tattoo Louis had inked there.

“If you say—”

“Like Dylan Thomas.”

Louis groaned. “Harry, you say the exact same—”

“ _I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble!_ ” Harry exclaimed with a little jump.

“Harry, if you—”

“ _It is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream_!”

“That’s the only quote you know of him.” Louis facepalmed.

“True, but at least I don’t quote _Bukowski_ , seriously, Lou, you’re _this_ close to quoting Frost.” Harry laughed. “Besides, I thought you were into drama, aren’t you supposed to be quoting Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, well, you’re a tit.”

Harry smiled, touching Louis’ cheek. “But I’m _your_ tit.”

Louis looked at him with an open mouth before laughing out loud. “ _Harry Styles, you dork.”_

Harry winked at him, but stood up, trying to sit on Louis lap. An onlooker would’ve stared at the sight, Harry, who was all gangly and lean limbs, trying to fit on top of Louis, who was shorter and smaller.

“You’re like a baby giraffe, babe.” Louis said, opening his legs and helping Harry sit comfortably.

“You’re my wolfie, though.” Harry harrumphed, finally sitting between Louis’ legs and the grass.

“You’re gonna hurt your bum, Haz.” Louis replied.

Harry cheekily smirked, “Oh, Lou, as if you worry too much about that.”

Louis almost answered to the taunt, but instead he pinched his boyfriend’s bum.

“Hey!”

Louis just laughed. “I’m not sorry. Besides, I barely grabbed anything, Harry, my bumless giraffe.”

“You keep laughing Tomlinson, not all of us can have your arse.”

“True.” He touched Harry’s nose with his own, and seriously since when did Louis became such a disgusting romantic. About the time he met one Harry Styles, a voice in the back of his mind answered.

They kissed for a while, and it wasn’t even that they hadn’t seen each other in a long time, in fact, they had seen each other last the day before, but days like those, where the were alone and could kiss each other as freely, came once in a while. They kissed, and the mint on Louis’ tongue became Harry’s, and the sweet on Harry’s tongue became Louis’, and roaming hands were barely contained because they were in a _park_. And it was good, until Harry whispered in between soft pecks,

“Have you thought about it, Lou?”

Louis sighed and broke the kiss. “Thought about what?”

“You know what.” Harry whined, it might’ve been because of Louis’ answer, maybe because of the lack of kissing, probably both.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Haz. I’ve already told you.”

Harry unthangled his hands from Louis’ neck, “No, you haven’t told me what you want Louis, I know what you want though, and what you want is not here, in this town. And neither what I want.”

“Well, it’s not about what I want, it’s about what I need to do for my family. I—my mum needs me, Haz.”

“And you can help her, yes, but not here, not in this miserable town. You can’t help her while being unhappy, Lou.”

“The girls—I’m sorry Harry, I can’t.”

Harry visibly deflated. “I can’t make you go, Lou,” he sighed, “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Louis hugged Harry, as if trying to protect him of unknown forces, “I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t be able to live without you.”

“You say that…” Harry smiled, hugging his boyfriend back.

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know, me neither.” he whispered on the shell of Louis' ear.  
  
::

 

**_(I've been hooked since the first day you caught my eye. And I promise you I'll never leave your side.)_ **

A year had passed since Louis and Harry first met.

They had been in school together for about two years, but were never in the same class nor the same extracurricular activities.

Louis was in theatre, Harry was in a photography club outside of school in which the students got high more than they took actual photographs. Louis was in footie, Harry spent his days trying not to trip while walking.

And of course, Louis had heard about a Harry Styles, and of course Harry had heard about a Louis Tomlinson, because, how could they not, they were known around school, they just didnt know each other.

In fact, it was almost as if fate hadn’t wanted Louis and Harry to meet until the specific date, there was no other reason why the two boys hadn’t met beforehand; always walking around each other, but never giving each other a second glance.

It wasn’t until Louis hooked up with Nick Grimshaw, Harry’s best friend, that they met.

During weekdays, photography club was held everyday behind the schools’ bleachers, which almost everyone (except Harry, poor soul) proceeded to smoke cigarettes or other suspicious substances. Except that day two things that normally didn’t happen, happened.

The first one was that the meeting was cut short when Ed, president of the club, decided it to because he was _tired_. Everyone left, except for Harry; he stayed there picking up the cigarette butts because he was scared one of the professors might see them and cancel the club. The rest of the club let him, if only to keep him from panicking.

The second thing however, was that Nick Grimshaw had asked for Louis Tomlinson, head of the theater departement, to see him in the bleachers. Naturally, they were going to make out.

But Nick had forgotten all about him and left.

And so, when Louis arrived, all he saw was a tall and flushed boy picking up cigarette butts.

“Hey, excuse me?” he had asked Harry.

Harry had looked up like a deer caught in headlights. “Yes?” he had asked as he tried to hide the butts behind his back.

Louis had tried not to laugh fondly at the boy, he was failing (and that was a first of many).

“Um, Is Nick here? He was supposed to meet me here.”

Harry had scrunched his eyebrows, “No, he left ‘bout twenty minutes ago. Meeting was cut short.”

“Oh.” Louis had tried to be dissapointed, but found out he wasn’t all that bothered and instead asked, “What are you doing?”

“Um, picking up the cigarettes everyone else left, don’t want the teachers to see them.” Harry went red.

Louis had smiled, but dind't taunt him. “Ok.” And then he had knelt to the ground and helped Harry. “Louis, by the way.”

“Harry.” The taller boy had smiled back.

That was the first time they saw each other. Harry had been shy, and Louis had been stupidly fond of a stranger. As time passed Harry would stop being shy around Louis, but Louis wouldn’t stop being stupidly fond of Harry. And they would stop being strangers.

But the second time they saw each other, it was at an ice rink.

Louis had been skating behind a particualry slow and clumsy skater with curly hair and just as he had decided to bypass him, the clumsy skater tripped.

Good thing Louis was a very nice person and had skated quickly enough to cathch the poor curly haired bastard.

It wasn’t until he noticed their faces were almost touching, that he saw it was none other than the cute friend of Nick’s.

“Mate, Harry, right? You’ve got the agility of a baby giraffe.”

“You look like a wolf up close. A little wolf.”

“Hey!” had protested Louis, and then he had lost his balance and down both of them went.

But it was fine, more so, when they laughed and afterwards got a hot coffee together.

It was during winter and after one of Louis’ performances as Puck in Midsummer’s Nightdream (as it was tradition since primary school), that Harry surprised Louis with a bouqet of roses and a kiss.

It wasn’t even surprising that they ended up kissing after all, even if Harry hadn’t officially come out yet, because it was just bound to happen; Louis knew it ever since he had caught Harry at the ice rink, Harry had known it ever since Louis helped him pick up the cigarettes.

And then, as easily as they kissed, they became boyfriends. Not officially, not yet, and after a month of hiding his relationship to his parents, Harry told them.

It should’ve been fine, Harry thought it would’ve been fine. But it wasn’t. That’s when his dad started hitting him and yelling at him. Still, Harry hadn’t been any happier than when he was with Louis.

Coincidentally, that was also about the time Louis started to think about his future, about university. He told his mom, he told her all about wanting to pursue theater, of being in a play whether on stage or directing it. Jay had been quiet about it at first, but weeks passed and that’s when she dropped the bomb: Louis was studying law and that was that.

For months, they were all they had and all they needed, and suddenly there they stood, with Harry with a homophobic dad and Louis with a mom that was forcing him to be miserable.

Even so, they never stopped quoting poetry at each other.

::

**_(Constantly inside my head, I can’t convince myself it’s nothing. So I whispered in your ear “please never ever leave me dear.”)_ **

 

It happened when Harry was asleep. It was midnight, and he still had a smile on his face from the his day’s events.

Roy was never much of a drinker, he was stoic and polished. He was a bussinessman afterall. Harry couldn’t think of a reason why Roy would drink. But that night, he did, and he got home and woke Harry by slamming open his bedroom’s door.

Harry could smell the stench of alcohol, could hear the angry slurs Roy was throwing at him, and even though he was still drowsy and disoriented from sleep, he could see his stepdad’s silhouette walking towards him. 

His words were incomprehensible, but the teen heard loud and clear _fag_ and _hate_. And then suddenly Roy was in front of him and his fist collided with Harry’s face.

He wanted to run away, that couldn't be happening to him! His dad had always been nice, he had never drank, he had always loved Harry. How could he become such a monster in a matter of months? He felt the punches coming again and again, but he couldnt stop them; he wouldn’t hit his father, and he couldn't run away. The pain became insufferable and he cried out with tears and blood.

He couldn’t do this to himself anymore, he couldn't stay there any longer, and so, when his mom ran to his room, witnessed what was happening, and yelled at her husband to stop, Harry grabbed the opportunity of the distracion and ran from the house.

It was sort of a déja vu of last week when he had run to the park, but this time he was bleeding, he was shirtless, he was barefoot, and he was not running to the park. He was still crying though, and crying harder than ever before, because that was the moment Harry had known his father truly and utterly hated him. And that’s when he got mad, he had allowed himself to love a monster like that, that he still loved him because Roy was his dad and would always be his dad.

But the love he had for Roy was miserable, was a tiny spark for what he felt for Louis, Louis who loved him back more than anything, Louis who would always be there for him.

With tiny rocks incrusting on the skin of his feet, he ran towards to Louis.

He got there, gasping and still crying but more out of desperation than out of anything else. For a moment he thought of throwing small rocks to Louis’ window like every other night, but he instead walked towards the doorway and rang the bell, knowing well that it could be Louis’ mother opening the door.

But instead he found blue icy (but still so warm, always very warm) eyes staring at him as the door opened in a whisk.

“Harry.” Louis gasped as he grabbed Harry by the shoulder to help him get inside the house.

“Wolfie.” Harry smiled back, and he could feel his lip was open, but he just smiled wider.

“Harry, what the hell happened?” Louis asked horrified, guiding Harry towards the living room.

“Dad.”

“Oh, god’s sake! I just—ok, wait here I’ll get the aid kit. Just…don’t move, love.”

“I can’t.”

“Jesus, shut up.”

Louis didn’t even take a minute grabbing the aid kit, but when he came back Harry was already falling asleep. “Hey, Haz, don’t fall asleep on me yet, we need to get clean up before.”

“Mhm.” Harry slurred, Louis didn’t know if he truly was tired, or was it from all the beating up. He tried not to clench his fists as he cleaned Harry up, but he was seething and he just wanted to punch something and kiss Harry all over at the same time.

When Harry held on tight to his flannel pajamas, being an incoherent mess, Louis’ heart grew five times its size and he suddenly just _wanted to leave._

To leave with his boy to London or just some other place that wasn’t there, to go somewhere where Harry wouldn’t get hit, somewhere everyone could just love Harry because that was what he deserved, to go somewhere where he could follow his dreams and not feel like drowning.

All he wanted was a place where they could be themselves, maybe buy a small dog (or a giant one), or a fluffy cat, and being able to wear Harry’s shirts all day long, and being able to sing his showtunes as loud as he could, eat some ramen noodles and make new friends. All he wanted was freedom and Louis Tomlinson was going to get it.

“Lou?” Harry whispered.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Quote me something, please.”

Louis allowed himself to smile, even though his boyfriend had a black eye and bloody face and he just wanted to cry.

“ _Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind_.” He recited from memory while cleaning Harry’s cheek.

Harry smiled, “That’s so pretty, whose is it? I’ve got no idea.”

Louis softly laughed, “William Shakespeare.”

“Are you serious?” Harry moaned.

“What do you want me to say? I’m a drama student after all. How 'bout this one?  _What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_.”

“Now you’re just playing with me.” Harry swatted at Louis’ arm.

“ _To be or not to be!”_

 _“_ Lou! _”_

“ _O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo_?”

“Please stop!” Harry laughed, for a moment forgetting his pain.

Louis did stop, but only to kiss his Harry.

::

**(If you're a bird, then I'm a bird. I'm convinced that I have found the other half of myself within you.)**

 

It was still summer, and it was just the day after Harry ran away from home.

He stayed with Louis, Jay taking care of him as she was a nurse.

But he wouldn’t be staying there for too long, Louis decided, neither of the would stay there for too long.

He woke Harry up that morning with a few pecks, and he was sure Harry was fully conscious, he said, “I’m ready, Haz.”

“Ready for what?” Harry mumbled back.

“I’m _ready_.”

“Oh...  _Really_? Are you sure?”

“More than anything.” Louis smiled with a ghost of a smile threatening to burst through.

“Ok.” Harry breathed out.

“Ok.” Louis breathed in.

That day, when Harry knew for sure his father was out at work, he went back to his house. He grabbed a suitcase, all his clothes, his camera, and a guitar.

He told his mom, he told her he was going to leave, he didn’t know where, but he wasn’t coming back. Anne cried, but didn’t stop him, only nodded and whispered _I’m sorry_ as she hugged Harry tightly.

“I’m not staying either, Harry. It might be for a while, but I’m leaving too.” She said to him.

“Good, mum, please leave too. If he ever hits you…”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not a fool, you know, even if I have acted like one.”

“No, mum, you didn’t—”

“Shush, honey, you need to get ready. And just…call me, please. When you get somewhere, please call me. I’ll go visit you when I can.”

“Love you mum.” Harry sniffed and held on for more minutes.

“Love you my Harry. Love you so much.”

Louis didn’t do the same as Harry. He didn’t tell Jay he was leaving, he knew that if he did, she wouldn’t let him go.

He truly did love her, but he wouldn’t let her ruin him.

He didn’t say goodbye to his sister either, and that’s what broke Louis’ heart the most. If he said goodbye to them he knew he’d feel guilty and wouldn’t be able to go through his plan, and he couldn’t do that to Harry, to himself.

So he had stayed quiet all day, acted normal, or at least tried to be, and tried to get the most out of his last day.

Louis told himself that he’d help them too, he just had to help himself first.

It was late, late at night, after he had left his individual letters to his sisters, that he heard a small rock on his window. It was Harry, always Harry.

That was the signal for him to get out; he did, very quietly throught his bedroom’s window.

And as they stepped on the train station, they knew that finally, _finally_ they were going to start the rest of their lives.

(When Louis goes back to that moment he can’t help but shake his head and think _no, the day my life started was the day I found a silly boy under the bleachers_.)

And it isn’t easy, it is _not,_ because London (yes, London) is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, but they’ve got no money, and they fight and they cry, but.

But they also laugh, and they also kiss, and they also look and discover and they meet Zayn who smokes cigarettes and reads even more poetry than they do and has gotten more tattoos than either of them; and they meet Niall who is loud and cheerful and everything that their little town is not; and they meet Liam who loves so much and gives too much. And suddenly they’ve got friends who love them more than anything in the world.

And they get a tiny, tiny flat, but it’s everything Louis has ever dreamt of, and he gets to sing every night, and Harry plays his guitar and takes pictures of everyone and everything which they put all around their flat and it’s the most beautiful flat there ever was (it is, it is).

Harry’s mum eventually goes to visit, and he’s happy and excited that he has his mum and his boyfriend in one place.

And Louis, Louis goes to uni. He goes everyday to drama class. He doesn’t know where it starts or where it’s going to end, but he tries for his mum and his sisters, and he’s the best.

But in the end, he always goes back to Harry (and their new kitten, Cheesecake) and he tells him how much his skin looks like moonbeam and his smile like stardust and Harry just laughs it off, but Louis sees his eyes light up even more than they usually do.

“ _And the voice I hear everynight, before I slumb, it’s the voice I’ll hear everynight for the rest of my life, everywhere and anywhere, because it’s so deeply encrusted in my chest, in my heart, and soul, that it’s imposible to be one without it_.”

“That is so beautiful, Lou, whose is it?” Harry smiles as they lay together in bed like every other night, fingers tangled loosely together.

Louis smiles back, “Mine.”

::

the end. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it, 5k written in an afternoon so sorry bc you read it.


End file.
